Chapter 46: The Second War Begins
HE WHO MUST NOT BE NAMED RETURNS
"In a brief statement on Friday night, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge confirmed that He Who Must Not Be Named has returned to this country and is once more active. It is with great regret that I must confirm that the wizard styling himself Lord — well, you know who I mean — is alive and among us again," said Fudge, looking tired and flustered as he addressed reporters. "It is with almost equal regret that we report the mass revolt of the Dementors of Azkaban, who have shown themselves averse to continuing in the Ministry's employ. We believe the Dementors are currently taking direction from Lord — Thingy. We urge the magician population to remain vigilant. The Ministry is currently publishing guides to elementary home and personal defence which will be delivered free to all wizarding homes within the coming month."
"The Minister's statement was met with dismay and alarm from the wizarding community, which as recently as last Wednesday was receiving Ministry assurances that there was "no truth whatsoever in these persistent rumours that You-Know-Who is operating amongst us once more. Details of the events that led to the Ministry turnaround are still hazy, though it is believed that He Who Must Not Be Named and a select band of followers (known as Death Eaters) gained entry to the Ministry of Magic itself on Thursday evening."
"Albus Dumbledore, newly reinstated Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, reinstated member of the International Confederation of Wizards and reinstated Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, has so far been unavailable for comment. He has insisted over the past year that You-Know-Who is not dead, as was widely hoped and believed, but is recruiting followers once more for afresh attempt to seize power. Meanwhile, the "Boy Who Lived" and Dawn Summers —"
June 22, 2003 – Sunday
Hospital Wing
"There you are, Harry, Dawn, I knew they'd drag you both into it somehow," Hermione said, her voice carrying a mix of exasperation and relief. They were in the hospital wing, a place that had become a temporary refuge from the chaos outside. The room, filled with the comforting hum of magical medical equipment and the occasional rustle of bed linens, was bathed in the soft glow of early afternoon light streaming through the windows.
Harry was seated next to Dawn, his expression a blend of exhaustion and quiet determination. Ron, perched on the edge of Ginny's bed, was intently listening as Hermione read the front page of the Sunday Prophet. The newspaper lay open in Hermione's hands, its bold headlines and scattered print capturing the gravity of recent events. Across the room, Luna, who had dropped in to visit, was clutching the latest edition of The Quibbler. She was holding the magazine upside-down, her eyes fixed on the pages with a dreamy, detached focus, seemingly oblivious to the world around her.
"He's the 'boy who lived' again now, though, isn't he?" Ron said darkly, his tone laced with a hint of bitterness. "Not such a deluded show-off any more, eh?" His comment was a reflection of the frustration and disillusionment that had been brewing in the wake of recent revelations.
"Yes, they're very complimentary about you now, Harry. About you also, Dawn," Hermione said, her eyes scanning the article with a critical gaze. "Voices of truth... perceived as unbalanced, yet they never wavered in their story... forced to bear ridicule and slander..." Her brow furrowed as she read, and she paused, a trace of irritation creeping into her voice. "Hmmm," she said, "I notice they don't mention the fact that it was them doing all the ridiculing and slandering in the Prophet…"
Dawn's lips curled into a smile, a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes. "No worries, they will when Buffy wins her lawsuit," she said confidently, her tone buoyed by the promise of future vindication.
Hermione continued to scan the newspaper, her eyes darting over the headlines. "You-Know-Who's Last Attempt to Take Over, pages two to four. What the Ministry Should Have Told Us, page five. Why Nobody Listened to Albus Dumbledore, pages six to eight. Exclusive Interview with Harry Potter and Dawn Summers, page nine…" She folded the newspaper with a decisive snap and tossed it aside, a gesture that spoke volumes about her frustration. "Well," she said, "it's certainly given them lots to write about. And that interview with Harry and Dawn isn't exclusive; it's the one that was in The Quibbler months ago…"
"Daddy sold it to them," Luna interjected vaguely, her attention still focused on The Quibbler. She turned a page with an absent-minded flick of her fingers. "He got a very good price for it, too, so we're going to go on an expedition to Sweden this summer to see if we can catch a Crumple-Horned Snorkack." Her words were delivered with a sense of childlike wonder, as if the prospect of an adventure was the most exciting part of her day.
Dawn smiled warmly at Harry, her affection evident in the soft curve of her lips. He leaned in and kissed her, a tender and intimate gesture that seemed to light up the room.
Hermione rolled her eyes with a mixture of amusement and mild annoyance. "Do you mind, Harry?" she asked, her voice carrying a playful edge.
Dawn laughed, a sound that was both light-hearted and teasing. "What's the matter, 'Mione? Don't you like watching Harry kissing your twin?"
Hermione sputtered, her cheeks flushing with a mix of surprise and mild indignation, while Harry's grin widened at Dawn's playful teasing. The room seemed to hum with a gentle energy as their light-hearted interaction brought a brief, comforting distraction from the weight of their recent experiences.
"So, anyway," Ginny said, steering the conversation with a casual yet curious tone, "what's going on in school?"
Dawn's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as she recounted recent events. "Well, Flitwick's got rid of Fred and George's swamp," she said, her voice carrying a note of admiration. "He did it in about three seconds. But he left a tiny patch under the window and he's roped it off—"
"Why?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows knitting together in surprise.
"Oh, he just said it was a really good bit of magic," Dawn replied with a casual shrug, her expression reflecting a blend of amusement and nonchalance.
"I think he left it as a monument to Fred and George," Ron said, his voice tinged with a touch of reverence and understanding. His words carried a sense of acknowledgment for the twins' remarkable, albeit troublesome, achievements.
"So has all the trouble stopped now that Dumbledore's back?" Ginny asked, her gaze shifting from one friend to the next, eager to know more about the state of affairs at school.
"Yes," Hermione answered, her voice carrying a note of relief. "Everything's settled right back to normal." Her words brought a sense of calm assurance, a hint that the storm had passed and order was being restored.
"I s'pose Filch is happy, is he?" Ron inquired, his tone carrying a mixture of curiosity and dry humor.
"Not at all," Dawn replied with a smirk. "He's really, really miserable, actually…" She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "He keeps saying Umbridge was the best thing that ever happened to Hogwarts…" Her tone was laced with a blend of sarcasm and amusement, highlighting Filch's unlikely and somewhat comical perspective.
She glanced at Hermione, a question in her eyes. "Does the Prophet mention her resignation?"
Hermione nodded, a hint of satisfaction in her expression. "Page ten."
The group erupted into laughter, their shared amusement providing a momentary escape from the more serious undertones of their recent trials.
Dawn smiled, her eyes lighting up with genuine satisfaction. "Good. That was the best thing Buffy did all year." Her tone was filled with a mix of admiration and relief, reflecting the significance of Buffy's accomplishment. "I wonder who's the Divination teacher now? Is Firenze staying?"
"He's got to," Harry replied with a sense of pragmatic certainty. "The other centaurs won't take him back, will they?" His words carried a hint of sympathy for Firenze's plight, acknowledging the challenges the centaur faced in finding acceptance among his own kind.
"It looks like he and Trelawney are both going to teach," Hermione said, her voice tinged with a note of resignation. She glanced at the newspaper she had been reading, clearly reflecting on the complexities of the school's staffing decisions.
"Bet Dumbledore wishes he could've got rid of Trelawney for good," Ron said, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Mind you, the whole subject's useless if you ask me; Firenze isn't a lot better…"
"How can you say that?" Hermione demanded, her tone sharp with indignation. "After we've just found out that there are real prophecies? Even I don't think it's rubbish anymore." Her voice was laced with a sense of vindication, underscoring the shift in her perspective regarding the value of prophecies.
Dawn smiled, a knowing glint in her eyes. "That's because you, my dear sister, are a Slayer. Prophetic dreams are part of the Slayer package. Expect more of them. Of course, Buffy always said she hates getting them because they're rather cryptic." Her words carried a mix of reassurance and empathy, acknowledging the unique challenges of living with prophetic visions.
Harry's heart began to race, a pang of anxiety gripping him. He had not shared the details of the prophecy with Ron, Hermione, Dawn, or anyone else. Only Buffy and Dumbledore knew the full extent of its content. Tara had mentioned the prophecy's destruction to Hermione and Dawn before leaving with Faith and Willow. The prospect of revealing the prophecy's grim implications—that he might be destined to be either a murderer or a victim—was daunting. He was not prepared to witness their reactions to such a revelation. "It is a pity it broke," Hermione said quietly, her voice reflecting her own sense of loss.
"Yeah, it is," Ron agreed, his tone carrying a note of resignation. "Still, at least You-Know-Who never found out what was in it either—where are you going?" His surprise and disappointment were evident as he noticed Harry standing up and pulling Dawn with him.
"Er—Hagrid's," Harry said, his voice firm but gentle. "You know, he just got back and Dawn and I promised we'd go down and see him and tell him how Ginny is." His words conveyed a sense of duty and affection, emphasizing their intention to reconnect with Hagrid and update him on Ginny's condition.
Ron, Hermione, and Ginny exchanged knowing glances, their unspoken understanding revealing that Harry and Dawn likely sought some private time together. The subtle shift in their demeanor highlighted the close-knit nature of their friendship and their respect for each other's needs.
"Oh, all right then," Ron said, his tone accepting.
"Say hello to him for us!" Hermione called out as Harry and Dawn proceeded down the ward. Her voice was warm, conveying her genuine well-wishes.
Harry gave a wave of his hand, a gesture that conveyed both his acknowledgment and his appreciation for their understanding. With that, he and Dawn left the hospital wing, their footsteps echoing softly as they made their way to visit Hagrid.
The Corridors of Hogwarts
The castle seemed eerily quiet, even for a Sunday. The usual hustle and bustle of students had given way to a serene stillness, as if the entire school had decided to savor the final moments of freedom before the term's end. Everyone was clearly out in the sunny grounds, basking in the gentle warmth of late afternoon sunshine, their laughter and conversation mingling with the soft rustle of leaves in a carefree celebration of the end of their exams. The prospect of a few untroubled days before the summer break stretched invitingly before them.
Harry and Dawn had just descended the last marble step into the Entrance Hall, a grand space that usually bustled with activity but now felt unusually empty and echoing. The rich, dark wood of the door frames and the gleaming stone floors seemed to amplify the silence, heightening the contrast between the peacefulness of the surroundings and the tension that was about to unfold.
As they reached the foot of the stairs, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle emerged from a door on the right—an entrance that Harry and Dawn knew led down to the Slytherin common room. The door, heavy and ornate, seemed almost to exhale the cool, shadowy air of the dungeons each time it opened. Harry and Dawn came to an abrupt halt, their footsteps muffled against the stone floor as they locked eyes with the trio.
Harry instinctively positioned himself protectively between Malfoy and Dawn, his stance firm and resolute. Malfoy, caught off guard by the sudden encounter, paused and surveyed his surroundings with a quick, nervous glance. Harry could see the brief flicker of apprehension in Malfoy's eyes as he checked for the presence of any staff members, ensuring they were alone before turning his full attention back to Harry.
In a voice that was barely audible yet filled with venom, Malfoy sneered, "You're both dead, Potter, Summers." The threat was laced with a chilling intensity, his pale, pointed face contorted with a rage that seemed almost palpable.
Harry raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Funny you'd think we'd have stopped walking around." His tone was laced with a mixture of amusement and defiance, a stark contrast to Malfoy's menacing demeanor.
Malfoy's anger was more visceral than Harry had ever seen; it was a raw, seething fury that seemed to radiate from him like heat waves. Harry felt a detached satisfaction at the sight of Malfoy's usual smirk replaced by a grimace of pure rage. It was a reminder of the shifting dynamics between them, and the growing strength of his own resolve.
"You're both going to pay," Malfoy continued, his voice dropping to a whisper as if sharing a dark secret. "I'm going to make you both pay for what you've done to my father…" The threat was spoken with a chilling certainty, as though he had already envisioned the vengeance he intended to exact.
Dawn, unfazed by Malfoy's anger, retorted with a hint of sarcasm, "Well, I'm terrified now." Her voice was steady and unwavering, a stark contrast to the bitterness in Malfoy's tone.
"I s'pose Lord Voldemort's just a warm-up act compared to you three—what's the matter?" Harry shot back, his voice dripping with irony. "He's a mate of your dad, isn't he? Not scared of him, are you?" His words were calculated to provoke, designed to throw Malfoy off balance and challenge his bravado.
"You think you're such a big man, Potter," Malfoy snarled, stepping forward with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him like two looming shadows. The two bulky Slytherins moved in tandem, their presence adding an extra layer of menace to Malfoy's confrontation. "You wait. I'll have both of you. You can't land my father in prison—"
"I thought we just had," Harry cut in, his voice sharp and defiant. His words were a bold assertion, a reflection of the reality that Malfoy was struggling to accept.
Dawn was methodically drawing out her wand, her movements deliberate and measured. The polished wood of her wand glinted faintly in the dim light of the Entrance Hall, a symbol of her readiness to defend herself if necessary.
"The Dementors have left Azkaban," Malfoy said quietly, his voice carrying a dark edge. "Dad and the others'll be out in no time…" His words were a chilling reminder of the looming threat, his expression a mix of anticipation and malicious satisfaction as he considered the impending release of his father and the other Slytherin prisoners.
"Yeah, I expect they will," Harry replied, his voice steady despite the tension. "Still, at least everyone knows what scumbags they are now…" He was resolute, his words a testament to the shift in perception that had occurred. The once-feared prisoners were now seen in a new light, their actions and intentions exposed.
Malfoy's hand shot towards his wand in a sudden, jerky movement, his reaction fueled by a combination of anger and desperation. But Dawn was quicker. Her wand was already out and pointed directly at Malfoy, the tip shimmering with a latent, potent energy.
"Summers!" A commanding voice sliced through the tension. Snape had emerged from the shadows of the staircase leading down to his office, his presence an unwelcome interruption. The stern lines of his face were even more pronounced in the harsh light of the hall.
"What are you doing, Summers?" Snape demanded, his voice sharp and authoritative. His gaze was fixed on Dawn, a mixture of disapproval and concern etched into his expression.
"I'm trying to decide what curse to use on Malfoy, sir," Dawn replied with a hint of defiance. Her tone was steady, yet her eyes betrayed a flicker of frustration at the interruption.
Snape's gaze turned icy as he stared at her, his lips thinning into a tight line. "Put that wand away at once," he ordered curtly. His command was followed by a customary threat: "Ten points from Gryff—" Snape's eyes shifted to the giant hour-glasses that adorned the walls of the Entrance Hall, their glittering contents a stark visual representation of the house points tally. His gaze softened into a sneer as he observed the Gryffindor hour-glass, now empty. "Ah. I see there are no longer any points left in the Gryffindor hour-glass to take away. In that case, Summers, we will simply have to—"
"Add some more?" Professor McGonagall's voice rang out, her tone as authoritative as Snape's but carrying an undercurrent of amusement. She appeared at the top of the stone steps, her entrance marked by the swish of her robes and the firm set of her jaw.
"Professor McGonagall!" Snape exclaimed, striding forward with an air of mock politeness. "Out of St Mungo's, I see!"
"Yes, Professor Snape," Professor McGonagall replied, her voice calm and composed. "I'm quite as good as new." Her gaze swept over the scene, her eyes landing on the students. "You two—Crabbe—Goyle—" she said, her voice brooking no argument. She thrust her heavy carpetbag into Crabbe's chest and her cloak into Goyle's hands. "Take these up to my office for me." Her instructions were precise, her tone brooking no dissent.
"Harry, be a good lad and go find Buffy," she added, her gaze softening slightly as she turned to Harry. Her request was delivered with a hint of warmth, contrasting sharply with the earlier tension.
Harry nodded, turning on his heel. He didn't have to look far; Buffy was waiting at the bottom of the marble stairs, her presence a reassuring anchor amid the chaos.
"Right then," said Professor McGonagall, her gaze drifting up to the towering hourglasses mounted on the wall, their delicate glass bulbs filled with shimmering jewels that represented the house points. Her tone was brisk but carried a note of firm decision. "Well, I think Summers and her friends ought to have fifty points apiece for alerting the world to the return of You-Know-Who! What say you, Professor Snape?"
Buffy, a determined smile on her face, approached the group with Harry by her side. The sunlight streaming through the grand windows cast a warm glow on her, enhancing her presence. "I think that is a wonderful idea," she said, her voice carrying a hint of satisfaction.
"What?" Snape snapped, momentarily taken aback. His eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and begrudging acceptance. "Oh — well — I suppose…" His words trailed off, his usual stern demeanor slightly softened by the unexpected turn of events.
Professor McGonagall's gaze was resolute as she continued, "So that's fifty each for Potter, the two Weasleys, and the two Summers." As she spoke, a cascade of gleaming rubies tumbled into the bottom bulb of Gryffindor's hourglass, their vibrant red color a testament to the sudden boost in points. "Oh — and fifty for Miss Lovegood, I suppose," she added, with a hint of consideration in her voice. Sapphires tumbled gracefully into Ravenclaw's glass, their serene blue reflecting the adjustment. "Now, you wanted to take ten from Ms. Summers, I think, Professor Snape — so there we are…"
Buffy's smile widened as she looked at Dawn and Harry. "Now, Dawn, Harry, I think you two ought to be outside on a glorious day like this," she said warmly. Professor McGonagall nodded in agreement, her eyes softening as she watched the students. The sunlit day outside seemed to beckon with a promise of freedom and relaxation.
Harry and Dawn exchanged a look of mutual understanding and eagerness. Without needing any further encouragement, Dawn swiftly returned her wand to her robes, and the two of them headed straight for the front doors, eager to escape the confines of the castle and embrace the beautiful day.
Buffy turned her attention to Malfoy, her demeanor shifting to one of stern authority. "Mr. Malfoy, this is your last warning," she said firmly. "Next time I hear you dissing my family or anyone I consider family, which includes Harry, especially since he's dating Dawn, you will be facing detention that will last long after you graduate from Hogwarts. I might even let Dawn curse you next time. Do I make myself clear?" Her tone brooked no argument as she watched Malfoy's face flush with a mix of embarrassment and anger.
Malfoy, his expression a mask of reluctant acceptance, nodded curtly. "Good," Buffy said, her voice firm and resolute. "Off you go." Her gaze shifted back to Professor McGonagall. "Do you need help up to your office, Minerva?"
McGonagall's eyes warmed with gratitude as she looked at Buffy. "It would be most appreciated, Buffy. Thank you." Her voice was sincere, carrying a note of relief and respect as she prepared to leave the scene behind.
Hagrid's Cabin
Outside, the bright afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the Hogwarts grounds. Harry and Dawn stopped on the lush green lawn, the gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the surrounding trees. Harry looked at Dawn with a smile that reflected his relief and contentment. "I'm really glad Buffy is on our side."
Dawn's eyes softened with affection as she nodded. "Yeah, you never want to get on her bad side, believe me." Her tone was light, yet her words carried an undercurrent of sincere warning.
Harry shifted his focus to their plans. "Do you want to see Hagrid? I told Ron and Hermione we were."
Dawn's expression brightened. "Maybe a quick visit. I do want to spend some time with you alone before we leave for the holidays." Her voice was tinged with anticipation, highlighting her desire to enjoy their remaining time together.
Harry responded with a nod, his gaze tender as he leaned in to kiss Dawn. His hand slipped into hers with a reassuring touch, their fingers entwining in a comfortable grip. Together, they turned and made their way towards Hagrid's hut, a familiar and inviting structure nestled at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
As they approached the small, weather-beaten hut, Harry knocked on the wooden door. For a brief moment, they stood waiting, the silence around them only broken by the distant calls of birds and the gentle lapping of the lake. Then, Fang, Hagrid's enormous, friendly dog, came charging around the corner with boundless enthusiasm. His tail wagged furiously, and he nearly knocked them over with his boisterous greeting. The sight of Fang's joyful welcome was a comforting reminder of the simple, untroubled moments that still existed in their lives.
Hagrid, who was busily picking runner beans in his back garden, looked up from his work. His large frame cast a long shadow across the sunlit ground. "All righ', Harry! Dawn!" he called out, his voice carrying the warmth of genuine affection. He beamed at them, his rough-hewn face lighting up with a broad smile. "Come in, come in, we'll have a cup o' dandelion juice… How's things? Yeh — er — feelin' all righ', are yeh?"
Dawn observed Hagrid closely, noting the way his eyes lingered on Harry when he asked about his well-being. She sensed that Hagrid's concern went beyond mere physical health, understanding the deeper implications of their recent struggles.
"I'm fine," Harry replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "So, where've you been?"
Hagrid's expression turned serious as he continued, "Bin hidin' out in the mountains. Up in a cave, like Sirius did." His voice was soft, carrying a note of sadness and understanding. "Ev'ryone knows yeh've bin tellin' the truth now, Harry, Dawn," he said gently. "Tha's gotta be better, hasn' it?"
Harry shrugged, a gesture that spoke of both weariness and resilience. Dawn nodded in agreement, her face reflecting the emotional weight of Hagrid's words.
They settled into comfortable chairs near the fire, the warmth of the hearth mingling with the comforting scent of earthy herbs. The conversation flowed easily as they reminisced and shared updates, their voices creating a soothing backdrop to the tranquil setting. After spending at least a half-hour in Hagrid's welcoming presence, Dawn and Harry excused themselves, mentioning their plan to visit Ginny in the hospital wing.
As they left the hut, the pair walked down to the lake, their footsteps crunching softly on the gravel path. They found a quiet spot on the bank, where the water's surface shimmered with reflections of the clear blue sky. Sitting together, they gazed out at the serene landscape, savoring the peaceful moment away from the chaos of their recent experiences.
"Harry," Dawn said softly, her voice breaking the comfortable silence they shared by the lake.
Harry turned to her, his smile gentle and affectionate. "Yeah?"
Dawn's eyes were filled with concern as she asked, "What's bothering you?"
Harry let out a long, heavy sigh, the kind that seemed to carry the weight of his worries. He began to speak, his voice low and hesitant as he shared the details of the prophecy, the burden of its implications hanging heavily over him. He spoke of the chilling certainty that the prophecy brought, the grim reality of having to face either a murderer or a victim.
Dawn listened intently, her gaze never wavering from Harry's face. She took in every word, her expression a blend of empathy and resolve. When Harry finished, the silence that followed was filled with the unspoken understanding between them. Dawn's response was a tender kiss, a gesture meant to convey reassurance and affection. "Harry, I have your back remember," she said softly, her words a promise of unwavering support.
Harry nodded, finding solace in her words. "You won't face him alone," Dawn continued with conviction. "I'm certain that Hermione, Ron, and even Buffy will be standing beside you also." Her confidence in their friends was a comforting balm to Harry's anxious thoughts.
Harry's smile grew, his gratitude evident in the way his eyes softened. "Thank you," he said, his voice carrying the depth of his appreciation.
They remained there for a long while, side by side, their bodies close against the backdrop of the tranquil lake. The water's surface was a mirror to the serene sky above, the gentle ripples reflecting the peacefulness of the moment. Dawn's head rested comfortably against Harry's shoulder, her presence a steady anchor in the midst of his swirling emotions. They gazed out at the lake in silence, finding comfort in each other's company, their shared warmth a silent testament to their bond.
Dumbledore's Office
Dumbledore stood at the grand window of his office, the cool, golden light of the afternoon sun filtering through the ancient glass panes and casting a soft glow over the room. His eyes, wise and deeply reflective, were fixed on Harry and Dawn as they strolled across the grounds below, their figures small yet significant against the sprawling, sunlit landscape of Hogwarts.
In the stillness of his office, Dumbledore's thoughts drifted back to the haunting lines of the prophecy he had shared to Harry and Buffy. His mind replayed the words with the gravity they deserved, each phrase resonating with the weight of destiny and foreboding. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."
Dumbledore's gaze shifted to Dawn, who was now laughing softly with Harry, their shared moments of ease a stark contrast to the dark undertones of the prophecy. He pondered her place within the intricate weave of fate and destiny. The air in his office seemed to grow denser as he considered the prophecy's broader implications. "She will be born at the fall equinox... she will give the one to vanquish the Dark Lord the power that the Dark Lord knows not..."
His eyes, reflecting both compassion and concern, remained on Dawn as she interacted with Harry, her presence a beacon of light and hope in the otherwise daunting narrative. The fall equinox was a time of balance, a symbolic transition between light and darkness, much like the role she was destined to play in the coming struggle.
July 5, 2003 – Saturday
Gryffindor Dormitory
Their last evening at Hogwarts had finally come, and the air was thick with the familiar mix of excitement and nostalgia that marked the end of another school year. Most students had already finished packing, eager to leave for the end-of-term Leaving Feast, their voices echoing in the hallways as they made their way toward the Great Hall. In the Gryffindor dormitory, however, Harry stood in front of his half-packed trunk, his movements slow and absent-minded. The thought of the feast weighed heavily on him.
"Just do it tomorrow!" Ron called impatiently from the doorway, already dressed and ready to go. "Come on, I'm starving."
Harry glanced up briefly, his mind still preoccupied. "I won't be long… look, you go ahead…" His voice trailed off as Ron shrugged and left, the door closing softly behind him.
Left alone in the quiet dormitory, Harry paused, staring at his belongings. He made no effort to quicken his pace. The thought of sitting through the feast, pretending everything was normal, felt unbearable. The last thing he wanted was for Dumbledore to make some reference to him in his speech, bringing unwanted attention to the prophecy that still weighed so heavily on his mind. The uncertainty of what lay ahead was a constant, gnawing presence.
A gentle knock broke the silence, and the door creaked open. Dawn stepped inside, her soft features bathed in the fading light of the setting sun. "Ron said you were up here," she said, her voice quiet yet comforting. She crossed the room, her eyes searching his face. "Still worrying about that prophecy?"
Harry shook his head, though the shadow of his concerns remained clear in his expression. "It's not just that," he admitted. "I'm more worried about the feast itself, and what Dumbledore might say. I know Buffy and Dumbledore are working on clearing Sirius' name, but until then, he has to stay… officially dead."
Dawn's lips curved into a reassuring smile, a spark of confidence in her eyes. "And they will," she said firmly. "You really think my sister's going to let Sirius stay hidden forever? She's Buffy, Harry. She'll fight for him."
Harry's gaze softened as he looked at her. "No, I don't think she'll let it go," he agreed. "It's just… things could get weird, you know? If Sirius and Buffy ever got married, technically—maybe not officially—but she could end up being my godmother. And with me dating you, well if Sirius and Buffy got married that would make you... my godsister." His voice lightened at the thought, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Dawn let out a laugh, her laughter brightening the dim room. She stepped closer to him, her eyes locking onto his. "Yeah, that would be weird," she admitted with a teasing grin. Then her tone softened, her voice laced with affection. "But you want to know something, Harry Potter?"
Harry nodded, his heart quickening at the sudden shift in her voice.
"I love you," Dawn said simply, her gaze unwavering. "I can't imagine my life without you in it."
Her words wrapped around him like a warm blanket, soothing the lingering worries that had been clouding his thoughts. Harry smiled, his heart swelling with the quiet certainty that came from knowing someone cared for him so deeply. He leaned in, pressing his lips gently against hers, a brief kiss that held all the unspoken emotions between them.
When he pulled away, he glanced back at his half-packed suitcase and let out a small, resigned sigh. Ron was right. He could finish it later.
"Let's go down to the feast," Harry said, his hand finding Dawn's. And for the first time that evening, the idea of attending didn't seem so bad.
Great Hall
Dawn and Harry descended the stairs together, their fingers intertwined, a quiet comfort in their closeness. The soft murmur of students heading toward the Great Hall filled the air, but the world around them seemed slower, more subdued, as if they were moving in their own bubble of shared thoughts and unspoken worries. As they reached the bottom of the staircase, they spotted Luna Lovegood, her silvery-blonde hair glowing faintly in the dim light, standing in front of a noticeboard, carefully pinning a handmade sign to the wall.
"Hello," said Luna, her voice dreamy and distant, as though she were only half-present in the moment.
Harry blinked at her. "How come you're not at the feast?"
Luna turned to face him, her large, pale eyes blinking slowly. "Well, I've lost most of my possessions," she said matter-of-factly, her serene smile unfaltering. "People take them and hide them, you know. But as it's the last night, I really do need them back, so I've been putting up signs."
Harry frowned, his mind still trying to wrap itself around Luna's calm acceptance of such cruelty. "How come people hide your stuff?"
Dawn, who had been quietly observing, stepped forward. Her curiosity was tinged with concern. "Why would they do that?"
"Oh… well…" Luna shrugged lightly, her shoulders rising and falling with a whimsical grace. "I think they think I'm a bit odd, you know. Some people call me 'Loony' Lovegood, actually."
Harry felt a familiar surge of irritation on her behalf. Luna's oddities were endearing, not something to be mocked. "That's no reason for them to take your things," he said firmly, his brow furrowed. "D'you want help finding them?"
Luna's smile remained unfazed, her soft eyes reflecting nothing but peaceful acceptance. "Oh, no," she replied with an airy laugh. "They'll come back; they always do in the end. It was just that I wanted to pack tonight. Anyway… why aren't you two at the feast?"
Harry hesitated, unsure how to answer. How could he explain the heaviness that had been hanging over him like a dark cloud, making the idea of celebrating anything unbearable? "For a while, I just didn't feel like it," he said with a shrug, his voice low.
Luna tilted her head slightly, her perceptive gaze seeming to see right through him. "No," she said softly. "I don't suppose you do." Her voice grew quieter, more thoughtful. "That man the Death Eaters killed was your godfather, wasn't he? Ginny told me."
Harry froze for a moment, a pang of sorrow tightening his chest. He nodded, swallowing hard as memories of Sirius flashed through his mind — his roguish smile, the fierce love and loyalty that had radiated from him, even in the darkest of times. But Luna didn't know the whole truth. Only a handful of people did. Beyond himself, only Hermione, Dawn, Buffy, Ron, Dumbledore, Tonks, and Lupin knew that Sirius was alive. And Tonks and Lupin had been in on the secret because they'd helped pull both Buffy and Sirius back through the veil, tethering them to the world of the living by the thinnest of threads.
But that secret remained buried, locked away for now. The weight of it hung between them as Harry looked back at Luna, his expression inscrutable.
"Yes, he was," Dawn said softly, her voice warm but firm. She gave Harry a reassuring glance, the kind that conveyed unspoken strength and affection. "But as I told Harry, he still has plenty of people who love him right here." Her lips curled into a playful smile as she winked at him, a gesture so simple, yet it made Harry feel a little lighter, as though the weight of the world wasn't entirely on his shoulders.
Luna, ever calm and perceptive, nodded thoughtfully, her ethereal gaze drifting between the two of them. "I guess that's right," she said, her voice tinged with that quiet understanding only Luna seemed to possess, as if love and loss were merely different shades of the same emotion in her mind.
Harry glanced at her again, his worry for Luna lingering like a soft whisper in his chest. "Are you sure you don't want us to help you look for your stuff?" he asked, his tone earnest.
"Oh, no," Luna replied with her usual serene detachment, her expression as placid as the surface of a still pond. "No, I think I'll just go down and have some pudding and wait for it all to turn up… it always does in the end…" Her smile brightened a little, as though she truly believed that even the universe had a way of putting everything back in its rightful place. "Well, have a nice holiday, Harry, Dawn."
"Yeah… yeah, you too," Dawn said, her voice soft but genuine, watching as Luna drifted away toward the Great Hall like a leaf carried by the wind, her light steps unhurried and unbothered.
Harry and Dawn stood for a moment, watching Luna's retreating figure as she disappeared into the bustling crowd of students heading to the feast. There was something quietly admirable about Luna, how she remained so steady, even when the world around her was anything but.
As Luna vanished into the Great Hall, Harry exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. Dawn squeezed his hand, grounding him back in the present, and they followed behind her, the low hum of chatter and laughter growing louder as they approached the Gryffindor table. Ahead, they could already see Ron, Hermione, and the others waiting, their familiar faces offering a sense of belonging, a reminder that amidst the chaos and uncertainty, they still had each other.
July 6, 2003 – Sunday
Hogwarts Express
The journey home on the Hogwarts Express the next day proved to be more eventful than anyone could have expected. The atmosphere in the train had shifted from the usual carefree buzz to a mixture of unease and anticipation. Everyone was on edge, the looming threat of Voldemort now a constant shadow over their world. But even amidst the growing tension, old rivalries remained.
Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who had clearly been plotting all week, saw an opportunity to ambush Dawn as she made her way back from the toilet, alone and unsuspecting. Their sneers twisted into malicious grins as they prepared to strike. But the trio's timing, as usual, was far from perfect. Unbeknownst to them, they had chosen the worst possible spot for their cowardly attack—right outside a compartment full of DA members. Through the glass, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Anthony Goldstein, and Terry Boot saw Dawn being cornered. Without hesitation, they rose as one, their hands instinctively gripping their wands, moving as a single force of defense.
In a blur of movement, hexes and jinxes flew. The spells Harry had taught them during their clandestine DA meetings came back with remarkable ease. Dawn had barely time to react before Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle found themselves on the receiving end of a barrage of curses. Within moments, they were no longer a threat, reduced instead to the rather pitiful sight of three oversized slugs squeezed into their Hogwarts uniforms, their limbs twitching uselessly. Ernie and Justin, grinning with satisfaction, hoisted the trio into the luggage rack like old baggage, where they dripped and oozed pathetically.
"I must say, I'm looking forward to seeing Malfoy's mother's face when he gets off the train," Ernie said, surveying his handiwork with a satisfied smile. Malfoy squirmed helplessly above him, his pale face flushed with humiliation.
"Goyle's mum'll be really pleased, though," Harry added as he arrived to check on Dawn, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "He's loads better-looking now." He then turned to Dawn, a gentle smile replacing his smirk. "Anyway, the food trolley's just stopped if you want anything…"
Dawn, still a bit dazed by the sudden intervention, smiled gratefully at the group of DA members. "Thanks, everyone. I owe you one." With that, she followed Harry back to their compartment, where the familiar sounds of laughter and chatter gradually helped her relax.
Once they settled in, Harry bought a large pile of cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties, generously offering some to Dawn. She accepted a cauldron cake with a grateful smile, still feeling the adrenaline from the encounter but comforted by Harry's presence. Inside the compartment, the mood was lighter. Hermione, ever the scholar, was absorbed in the latest edition of the Daily Prophet, her brow furrowed as she scanned the pages. Buffy, meanwhile, was engrossed in a quiz from The Quibbler, her quill scratching as she contemplated a particularly tricky question.
Ron and Harry, trying to push thoughts of looming danger aside for a while, whiled away most of the journey playing wizard chess. Dawn sat close to Harry, occasionally resting her head on his shoulder as she made encouraging remarks, her eyes drifting between the chessboard and the world flashing by outside the window. Every now and then, Hermione would break her concentration on the Prophet to read out snippets of the latest articles. It was now filled with advice on how to repel Dementors, updates on the Ministry's attempts to track down Death Eaters, and a smattering of hysterical letters claiming that Voldemort had been spotted in ridiculous places.
"It hasn't really started yet," Hermione sighed gloomily, folding the newspaper with a resigned expression. "But it won't be long now." Her eyes were shadowed with worry, a reflection of the growing fear in the Wizarding world.
Dawn shook her head gently, trying to inject a little lightness into the moment. "Look on the bright side, Hermione. Neither Harry nor I are considered nutters anymore." She gave Harry a teasing smile, her eyes twinkling with affection.
Hermione's frown softened, and despite the gravity of the conversation, a small smile crept across her face. "Well, there is that," she agreed, chuckling softly.
King's Cross Station
As the Hogwarts Express began to slow, the familiar landscape of London creeping into view, Harry felt a strange, almost painful reluctance to leave the train. It was as if the magical world that Hogwarts embodied was still within the safety of these carriages, and stepping off meant returning to the harsh reality waiting for him. He even entertained the fleeting thought of staying on board, refusing to disembark, letting the train take him back when September rolled around again. But deep down, he knew that wasn't possible. Not this time.
With a sigh, he felt the final jerk as the train puffed to a standstill. The inevitable moment had come. Harry reached up to grab Hedwig's cage, her amber eyes meeting his with a soft hoot, as if sensing his mood. He hauled his trunk down with a sense of finality, the scraping sound on the floor mirroring the dull ache in his chest.
Beside him, Dawn was doing the same. She moved with a quiet efficiency, her eyes meeting his when she saw his hesitation. "Promise me we'll see each other this summer," he said, his voice a little lower, a little more serious than usual. There was a weight to the request, an understanding between them that the summer ahead wasn't going to be simple or easy.
Dawn gave him a reassuring nod, her hand briefly brushing his as she gripped her own trunk. "Of course, Harry. And I'll owl you as much as possible." Her smile was soft but filled with determination, as though she knew exactly how much he needed that reassurance.
As they exited the train, the familiar chaos of King's Cross Station greeted them, though the sight of the magical barrier between platforms nine and ten remained a comforting constant. When the ticket inspector signaled that it was safe to walk through, Harry exchanged a glance with Dawn, Buffy, Ron, and Hermione. They all moved together, crossing through the barrier in unison, a small moment of solidarity before facing the world beyond.
What greeted them on the other side, however, was entirely unexpected. A small group stood waiting, clustered near the entrance to the platform. Harry blinked in surprise as he recognized the familiar faces of Mad-Eye Moody, Tonks, and Lupin, their expressions serious but warm. But at the forefront were Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, both dressed in their Muggle best, their faces lighting up at the sight of their children. And standing proudly beside them, in jackets so garish they almost hurt to look at, were Fred and George, their new dragon-skin outfits gleaming in the light.
"Ron, Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley cried, rushing forward with her arms outstretched. She pulled them both into a tight hug, her motherly warmth wrapping around them like a protective shield. As soon as she had released her children, she turned her gaze to Harry, her eyes soft with affection. "Oh, and Harry dear—how are you?"
"Fine," Harry replied, giving a small smile and a wink toward Dawn, the brief gesture just for her. Inside, however, his mind raced. He wasn't sure if Dumbledore had told the Order the truth about Sirius yet, or if they still believed his godfather was truly gone. The secrecy weighed on him, but for now, it was something he had to carry in silence.
Before he could dwell too much on it, Ron's voice cut through the crowd. He had turned his attention to Fred and George, his expression a mix of confusion and curiosity as he pointed at their jackets. "What are they supposed to be?"
Fred grinned widely, puffing out his chest as though the outfit were a badge of honor. "Finest dragonskin, little bro'," he announced proudly. "Business is booming, and we thought we'd treat ourselves."
Ron's bemused expression remained, but there was no mistaking the pride in his brothers' faces, and Harry couldn't help but feel a flicker of amusement at their antics. They had truly come into their own, and even in the face of everything that was happening, Fred and George remained untouched by fear, always able to find the humor in life.
"Hello, Harry," Lupin's quiet voice brought him back to the moment, a gentle reminder that not everything was carefree. The weary kindness in Lupin's eyes was unmistakable, and Harry felt a surge of gratitude toward the man who had been there for him so many times. Mrs. Weasley let go of him and turned to greet Hermione, Dawn, and Buffy.
"Hi," said Harry, glancing at the familiar faces around him. "I didn't expect… what are you all doing here?" There was a mix of surprise and confusion in his voice. He had grown so accustomed to facing the Dursleys alone after each school year that this sudden gathering of the Order felt completely unexpected, even surreal.
Lupin, standing closest, gave a soft smile, his calm presence instantly comforting. "Well," he began, "we thought we might have a little chat with your aunt and uncle before letting them take you home." His voice was gentle, but there was an underlying firmness that hinted at the seriousness of the situation.
Harry's eyes widened, a flicker of alarm flashing across his face. "I dunno if that's a good idea," he said quickly. His heart sank at the thought of how the Dursleys might react, their usual disdain for anything remotely magical playing vividly in his mind.
But before Harry could voice more protest, Dawn, standing beside him, flashed him a reassuring smile. "I think it is," she said, her voice filled with quiet determination. There was no doubt in her tone—Dawn believed this was something that needed to happen. She understood how the Dursleys had treated Harry, and like her sister Buffy, she wasn't one to stand by and let that continue.
Moody, ever the intimidating figure with his battle-worn face and magical eye, limped a little closer to Harry. His magical eye swiveled as if searching the area, finally fixing behind them. "That'll be them, will it, Potter?" he grumbled, his thumb jerking over his shoulder to point.
Harry leaned slightly to the side, following Moody's thumb, and sure enough, there stood the unmistakable figures of the Dursleys. They were clustered together near a row of benches, Vernon's face already purple with frustration, Aunt Petunia stiff as a board, and Dudley nervously shifting from one foot to the other. They looked so out of place amid the bustling platform filled with witches and wizards, their discomfort palpable even from a distance.
"Ah, Harry!" Mr. Weasley's voice rang out with its usual warmth, and Harry turned to see him beaming as he disengaged from the Grangers. They had just finished exchanging enthusiastic greetings, with Hermione's parents having hugged Hermione, Buffy, and Dawn in turn. Mr. Weasley turned towards Harry, his smile fading into a more serious expression. "Well—shall we do it, then?"
Harry felt a pang of nervousness but nodded slightly. "Yeah, I reckon so, Arthur," Moody growled in agreement, his voice full of purpose as he began limping forward.
Mr. Weasley and Moody took the lead, walking across the busy station with purpose, the crowd parting before them as though sensing the intensity of their mission. Buffy, ever protective, stepped into place beside them, her stride confident and determined. Her presence was solid and reassuring, her fierce protectiveness for Harry now extending toward dealing with the Dursleys.
Hermione, gently extracting herself from her mother's hug, moved to join them. Her gaze flickered to Harry, offering silent support. Hermione knew more than anyone what this moment meant. She'd heard Harry's stories over the years, understood the tension that lay between him and the Dursleys.
Dawn, who had been speaking to Mr. Granger, now also left his side to join the group. As she moved toward the Dursleys, her usual brightness was tempered with resolve.
"Good afternoon," Mr. Weasley said as they approached the Dursleys, his voice polite but firm, extending his hand out in a gesture of goodwill. Vernon blinked at him, his moustache twitching in irritation. Petunia recoiled slightly, her eyes darting nervously between the approaching group and the other witches and wizards milling about the station. "You might remember me, my name's Arthur Weasley. We thought we'd just have a few words with you about Harry."
Vernon's eyes bulged in response, his expression turning sour, but before he could utter a word, Moody stepped in. His gruff voice carried with it an undeniable air of authority. "Yeah," he growled, his magical eye swiveling to fix on each of the Dursleys in turn, "about how he's treated when he's at your place." The threat in his voice was subtle but unmistakable, and the Dursleys' unease deepened visibly.
Buffy nodded firmly, "Yep." Her casual confirmation was laced with an underlying steeliness that didn't go unnoticed.
Vernon's eyes narrowed, his frown deepening as he turned his attention toward her. He clearly remembered her from the previous summer, the girl who had shown an unexpected—and unsettling—amount of strength when she had come to take Harry for the remainder of the summer. His voice bristled with indignation as he responded, "I am not aware that it is any of your business what goes on in my house—" His words trailed off, his tone laced with condescension and irritation, but there was a flicker of unease in his small, piggy eyes.
"I expect what you're not aware of would fill several books, Dursley," growled Moody, his grizzled voice cutting through Vernon's attempt to maintain control. The magical eye swiveled sharply, locking onto Vernon, and the Dursley patriarch took an involuntary step back. Moody's presence was unnerving even to the boldest of wizards, and Vernon was no wizard. His face paled slightly, but he straightened his shoulders in a futile attempt to reclaim authority.
Tonks, ever the one to defuse tension with a sharp word, jumped in. "Anyway, that's not the point," she said brightly, though her tone had a hard edge. "The point is, if we find out you've been horrible to Harry—"
Buffy, standing beside her, smiled pleasantly. "—And make no mistake, we'll hear about it," she added, her voice sweet but dripping with an unspoken threat that left no room for doubt. Buffy wasn't one to take Harry's mistreatment lightly.
Mr. Weasley stepped forward, adjusting his glasses as he looked between the Dursleys. "Yes, even if you won't let Harry use the felly-tone—"
"Telephone," Hermione and Dawn corrected in unison, both of them barely concealing their amusement at Mr. Weasley's constant struggle with Muggle terminology.
"Right, the telephone," Mr. Weasley continued, not missing a beat. "If we get even the smallest hint that Potter's been mistreated in any way, you'll have us to answer to," Moody finished, his voice low and menacing. There was no mistaking the seriousness in his tone—he wasn't issuing an empty threat.
Uncle Vernon's face turned a deep shade of purple, and Harry could practically see the steam rising off him as his indignation mounted. His large body seemed to swell ominously, his outrage at being spoken to this way by this group of 'freaks' starting to outweigh the fear that had been gnawing at him. "Are you threatening me, sir?" he demanded loudly, his voice booming across the platform. Passers-by slowed in their tracks, their heads turning in curiosity to witness the commotion.
"Yes, I am," said Mad-Eye without hesitation, his magical eye locked on Vernon's face with unwavering intensity. There was no need for pretense or false civility here—Moody was nothing if not direct.
Buffy nodded in agreement, stepping forward with the same unflinching resolve. "As am I," she said. Her voice was calm, but there was a cold, controlled power beneath her words. Buffy Summers didn't need to yell to make herself understood—her presence alone was enough.
Vernon, red-faced and trembling with fury, barked back, "And do I look like the kind of man who can be intimidated?" His voice was loud, booming, as though sheer volume would somehow give him the upper hand in this confrontation. His meaty fists clenched by his sides, and his chest puffed out in a display of false bravado.
"Well…" said Moody, pushing back his bowler hat to reveal his sinisterly revolving magical eye. Uncle Vernon leapt backwards in horror and collided painfully with a luggage trolley. Moody's eye fixated on the Dursley's fear-stricken faces. "Yes, I'd have to say you do, Dursley," he growled, a hint of dark amusement in his voice. It was as if the very air around him exuded a sense of impending danger.
Moody turned away from Uncle Vernon to survey Harry. His magical eye whirled and twitched, keeping a watchful gaze on the young wizard. "So, Potter . . . give us a shout if you need us," his gravelly voice was filled with a strange mixture of concern and authority. "If we don't hear from you for three days in a row, we'll send someone along . . ."
Buffy nodded solemnly, her gaze fixed on Harry. Her determination shone through the darkness that surrounded them. "And I will come for you sometime during the summer. Either to take you to Sunnydale or to the Burrow." Her words carried a sense of unwavering loyalty, a promise that Harry could count on.
Aunt Petunia whimpered piteously, a pitiful sound that seemed to symbolize her fear of the unknown.
"Bye, then, Potter," said Moody, grasping Harry's shoulder for a moment with a gnarled hand. His grip was strong, a reminder of the harsh realities they faced.
"Take care, Harry," said Lupin quietly, his voice a soothing balm in the midst of the chaos. "Keep in touch." His words were a lifeline, a reminder that Harry had friends who cared deeply for him.
"Harry, Buffy is right we'll have you away from there as soon as we can," Mrs. Weasley whispered, hugging him again. Her embrace was warm and comforting, like a protective shield against the looming darkness.
"We'll see you soon, mate," said Ron, his voice tinged with anxiety, as he shook Harry's hand. His grip was firm, conveying a sense of unspoken support.
"Really soon, Harry," said Hermione earnestly, her eyes filled with determination. "We promise." Her promise carried the weight of their unbreakable bond.
Dawn smiled, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of love and longing, as she kissed Harry passionately. The intensity of the kiss left Petunia Dursley thoroughly embarrassed, unable to comprehend the depth of their connection. Dawn broke the kiss and gazed at Harry, her voice filled with affection, "See you in a few weeks. And don't forget to owl me."
Harry's smile radiated warmth and reassurance. "I won't," he assured her, his heart filled with a profound sense of connection and longing.